Charlotte squints at my neck, then at Laurel’s. “She’s right, Sutton.”
“Yeah, they’re different enough,” Madeline agrees.
I want to fling molten-hot water into their faces. How dare my friends fuss over my sister’s complete lack of originality? It’s bad enough Laurel tagged along with us. It’s bad enough that my friends let her into our club just because they feel sorry for her after Thayer’s disappearance. And it’s really bad enough that my parents—especially my dad—dote on her at home, meanwhile treating me like I’m a bomb about to detonate.
Before I know what I’m doing, my hand wraps around the locket and I yank the chain from Laurel’s neck. Then I fling it into the woods. There’s a tiny plink of metal bouncing off one of the rocks, and then a nearly inaudible rustling sound as the necklace lands in the thick brush.
Laurel blinks hard. “W-Why did you do that?”
“That’s what you get for copying me.”
Tears fill her eyes. “What’s wrong with you?” She lets out a tortured wail, climbs out of the hot springs, catapults over the rocks, and runs into the woods.
No one moves for a few long beats. Steam swirls around my friends’ faces, but it suddenly seems foreboding instead of sexy. I groan and climb out of the water, too, feeling a stab of guilt.
“Laurel!” I call into the woods. No answer. I jam my feet into my flip-flops, pull on a T-shirt and a pair of terry-cloth shorts, and start in the direction she went.
The solar lights that line the path end a few yards past the springs, giving way to eerie darkness. I take a few tentative steps into a thicket of mesquite trees, my arms outstretched in front of me. “Laurel?” I hear a flutter close by, then a snap. “Laurel?” I take another few steps, pushing through tall desert grass. Tiny cactus spines prick my skin.
More footsteps. A sob. “Laurel, come on,” I say through clenched teeth. “I’m sorry, okay? I’ll buy you a new necklace.” One that doesn’t look exactly like mine, I want to add.
After passing a few more trees, I emerge into an empty clearing—a long-dried-out creek bed. Hot, stale air hangs heavily around my face. Twisted shadows spill across the cracked earth. Cicadas croak noisily in the bushes. “Laurel?” I cry. I can’t see the resort lights through the trees anymore. I’m not even sure where the resort is. Then, I hear a footstep. “Hello?” I call out, suddenly alert. Something blinks at me from the savanna grass. I hear a whisper, followed by a faraway giggle. And then I feel a hand on my shoulder. Something cold and sharp presses up against my neck.
My whole body stiffens. Strong hands grab me and pin my arms back. Something presses against my throat, cutting off my breathing, digging into my skin. Pain shoots through me. It’s a knife. “Scream and you die,” a voice rasps in my ear.
And then . . . darkness.
Chapter 10
EVERY GUY LOVES A FELON
I snapped back to Laurel’s car, where Emma sat stiffly in the passenger seat as she backed out of the driveway.
Sutton’s dead, she thought. Sutton’s DEAD. It was impossible to comprehend. Dead . . . where? How? Did it have to do with that snuff video? Had someone actually strangled her?
A tight ball filled her stomach. Her eyes watered with tears. Even though she’d never met her sister, even though she’d found out about her existence only two days earlier, it was an earth-shattering loss. Discovering she had a twin was like hitting the jackpot, something Emma had never dared to dream of. All the hope she’d bottled up for years had reached a crescendo these past two days. And now . . .
Think about how I felt. I’d stared hard at the note when Emma opened it. Actually seeing SUTTON’S DEAD written there on the paper in black and white made it undeniable. I was really dead. Gone. And I had been murdered—my jumbled memories had been right. The darkness. The flailing. The knife at my throat. Now whoever had done this wanted a sister I’d never met to take my place so no one else would ever find out the truth. As if it was that easy! If only I had a say in this. I didn’t want to hand my life over to someone else.
And Emma didn’t want to step into it either. She sniffed loudly and Laurel turned. “What?” The corners of her mouth turned down.
Emma pressed her fingertips against the note. Sutton’s dead. Laurel deserved to see this, didn’t she? Sutton’s very own sister should know she was dead, right? Yet, Emma couldn’t show her. What if Laurel didn’t believe her, figuring it was just another attempt to skip school? And what if the second part of the threat was true? Keep playing along, or you’re next. If Emma told someone, something terrible could happen.
“Nothing,” she finally answered.
Laurel shrugged and rolled down the neighborhood street, turning right at a big park with a dog run, a huge playground, and three outdoor tennis courts. When she made another turn, a line of organic markets, high-end nail salons, and funky boutiques flanked one side, and a UPS store, a stucco police station, and the stone entrance for Hollier High School were on the other. Cars jammed the left-turn lane, waiting to enter the school lot. Blond girls in Ray-Bans lazed in convertibles. The bass throbbed inside a big Escalade with a HOLLIER VARSITY FOOTBALL bumper sticker. A dark-haired girl on a sea-green Vespa wove through the waiting cars, sometimes with just a few inches to spare.
Emma stared at the police station as they made the turn into the school. Six squad cars sat in the parking lot. A cop in a uniform stubbed out a cigarette on the front walk.